


All Thy Passions Match'd With Mine

by the_rogue_bitch



Series: The Yearning of the Sword [8]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, cameo by Abarai Renji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 17:26:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1436635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rogue_bitch/pseuds/the_rogue_bitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo and Rukia finally get some uninterrupted time alone. </p><p>Sexytiemz at last!</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Thy Passions Match'd With Mine

_Shichi-gatsu._

Despite their current living arrangements, Ichigo and Rukia had very little privacy. Rukia’s quarters were part of her squad’s compound. Or she slept at the Kuchiki house, in her own room. Ichigo’s were part of the student-teacher’s compound, and he shared a wall with his next-door neighbor.

Ichigo would never compromise Rukia’s authority by exploring the physical side of their relationship in her quarters. Since he wasn’t actively suicidal, he wouldn’t even consider going to her room at the Kuchiki house. Ichigo didn’t care about himself and whether he disturbed his neighbor, but again, Rukia’s reputation was on the line, not his. He respected her too much to waste all her hard work with indiscretion. Regardless of what Byakuya might believe.

He wanted to feel free to explore Rukia, to be loud, or playful, or whatever, and wanted the same for her. He wanted to feel her small hands on every part of him and he had no idea how that was ever going to happen. He was so frustrated he was beginning to think they were going to have to go camping in the woods to do it.

Until Ichigo caught a break.

The dorms and quarters had gradually emptied out for the month, the majority of the teaching students going home to their families. Ichigo realized he was quite alone in the compound, and he was going to take advantage of the opportunity presented to him.

**

“Are you busy after dinner?” Ichigo asked, leaning around Rukia’s office doorway.

“It seems that I will be,” Rukia looked up, a half-smile on her face.

“Yes, you will. Very much so. Come see me tonight.” Ichigo didn’t make it a request, and left before Rukia could reply.

**

Ichigo’s room, while neat, was still an undeniably masculine place. He didn’t really have anything in the way of decor to soften its functionality. Certainly nothing to render it aesthetically pleasing to a woman, even one as practical as Rukia.

He knew that she liked the occasional decorative object, and he had an idea of her favorite colors, and of course there was that stupid Chappy obsession. Ichigo loved Rukia, but no way was he indulging that in his space.

The furniture in the room belonged to the Academy, so it was battered and ill-used. The only thing new was Ichigo’s futon. He did the best he could, cleaning the room with vigor, even shaking out the mats and cushions and washing the floor. The futon was flipped and changed and absolutely everything he owned was neatened or put away.

Then Ichigo showered because all that effort in the heat had made him sweaty and he stank.

He ate at the student dining hall, which was mainly populated by instructors and the younger classes from the Academy. His stomach was full of nervous butterflies.

When he got back to his room, he lit a bunch of fat pillar candles placed around on various surfaces. In that light, the furniture didn’t look so shabby, and the room was more inviting. After he did that, he sat sideways in his open doorway, watching the sun set and listening to the singing of the cicadas. He wondered if Rukia would actually come to see him. He wished he had something nicer to wear than his shihakusho or Living World clothes.

The sun was disappearing into a vivid orange pool, leaving a deep blue sky spangled with stars, when Rukia came up the road. She was still in her Shinigami uniform, but somewhere along the way, she had tucked a purple flower in her hair, above her ear.

Ichigo smiled when he saw her. She moved purposefully towards him, mounting his steps and standing there, looking down at him. Ichigo reached up and stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“What’s this?” he lightly touched the flower. Rukia shrugged.

“I just felt like it.”

“It’s pretty.”

Ichigo knew that Rukia occasionally liked ornamentation, as long as it was subtle, or singular. 

“Come in?” Ichigo stood, offering Rukia his hand. She took it and let Ichigo escort her. Once in the room, she looked around at all the candles and the drastically neatened room.

“You seem to be setting the stage for a seduction,” she observed mildly.

“That would be silly. Don’t seductions involve intercourse?” Ichigo said, eyebrows raised sarcastically. She frowned up at him.

“You are never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Not if I can help it,” grinned Ichigo.

“So, what is -- all this?” Rukia gestured at the room.

Ichigo took off his kosode and hung it on a hook while Rukia removed her waraji and hung Sode no Shirayuki in the rack just under Zangetsu. 

“Let’s sit over there,” he gestured to his futon. Rukia looked a little suspicious, but went and sat down willingly, her back against the wall. Ichigo got a couple of mugs of water and sat next to her, putting them on the floor.

“I know we’re both kind of restricted in what we do, for various reasons,” he started. “Both personal and professional. I respect your position enough that I don’t visit you in your room. And I know that I don’t usually have much privacy here.”

“Usually?”

Ichigo turned, kneeling, and brought his hands up to Rukia’s face. He tilted her chin up with his thumb and forefinger, and kissed her. He started slowly, enjoying the feel of Rukia’s lips on his, but her tongue flickered out and across his lips and he opened his mouth with a moan as it slid inside. Rukia knelt up next to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, one hand in his hair. Ichigo’s arm went around her waist and they kissed until they were both breathless.

“What do you mean by ‘usually’?” Rukia asked, lips full and flushed, eyes dark and hot.

“Everyone’s gone for break except me. I have nowhere to go,” Ichigo replied, stroking Rukia’s back.

“We’re all by ourselves here?”

“Completely.”

“I see,” Rukia looked speculative. “What did you have in mind?”

“Whatever you’ll let me do,” Ichigo replied. “As much as I can. Repeatedly.”

Rukia’s breath hitched, and she shivered, but she focused unwaveringly on Ichigo’s face.

“I want to see all of you. Will you let me?”

“Will you let me see all of you?” countered Rukia.

Ichigo spread his hands, smiling.

“All that you see here is already yours.”

“You remember the rules? You won’t try to convince me to change the terms?”

“Rukia, you trust me with your life, don’t you?” Rukia nodded. “Then trust me with this. I agreed to the terms. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. Say stop and I’ll stop. I already know where the boundary is. Everything else,” Ichigo ran his finger under the front lapel of Rukia’s kosode, “is fair game.”

Rukia closed her eyes and sighed, sounding relieved and amorous at the same time. Then she opened them and pinned Ichigo with a look.

“Take off your juban,” she demanded.

“Take off your kosode,” Ichigo replied, fingers already untying his top. His hands shook a little, adrenaline and excitement rushing through his bloodstream. His skin felt hot.

He slid off his juban and looked at Rukia. With her kosode off, she still had on a juban, and Ichigo frowned.

“I’m at a disadvantage here,” he said.

“It won’t be for very long, I promise,” Rukia replied, gaze raking over Ichigo’s torso. He swore he felt heat trails wherever her eyes had been. “You know, aside from the other day, I don’t think I’ve seen you like this unless you were covered in blood or bandages.” She reached out her hand and traced the musculature of Ichigo’s stomach, and he gasped. “I like this better.”

“Me too,” Ichigo said, taking Rukia’s other hand and putting it on his chest so she could explore him some more. “I love the way your hands feel on me,” he breathed. 

Rukia looked pleased and trailed her fingertips across his pectorals and nipples again, leaving small rows of red in their wake. She smiled at Ichigo’s shudder and the goosebumps that rose on his skin, then leaned forward, hands holding onto his waist, to circle one of his nipples with her tongue. She teased it with her teeth as it rose harder, making Ichigo dizzy. He groped around behind him until he could brace himself against the wall with his hand. In his wildest imaginings Ichigo would never have guessed he could feel so good, so aroused. He didn’t know Rukia could be like this, either. She was so modest and and formal most of the time. Her fire ran both ways, to temper and to passion. He was allowed to see that now, and it was really, really sexy.

It felt like flames raced over every inch of his skin. He reached out to untie Rukia’s juban and she held his hands down by his wrists.

“Not yet,” she whispered into his skin.

“Rukia,” Ichigo moaned.

“It’s good?” Rukia looked up at him, mischief lurking in her eyes.

“So damn good, Rukia. Keep going.” 

Rukia addressed her efforts to Ichigo’s torso. Her fingers dug into his skin for balance and he felt her mouth moving lower. Her teeth nipped at his skin, tongue swirling through his navel, and reached the waistband of his hakama and was she going to go lower? He couldn’t breathe and he had never been so hard in his life.

“Rukia, please, my legs. I need to sit.”

Rukia stopped and Ichigo collapsed from his upright kneel to a loose-limbed sitting sprawl, back against the wall. He pulled his wrists from her hands.

“Your turn. Take it off,” he said. Rukia’s hair obscured her expression as she untied her juban. She slid it off her shoulders, then let it drop completely, not looking up as Ichigo inhaled harshly.

“Rukia,” he said. “Thank you. You are so beautiful.” He placed a hand on her ribcage, just below her breast, stroking the underside with his thumb. She shivered, and turned her face up to Ichigo’s.

“You keep saying that,” she said. “Why?”

“It keeps being true. I think you’re beautiful.” Ichigo traced a line from the underside of Rukia’s jaw to her sternum with a fingertip, and she swayed, eyes closed. He caught her in his arms and pulled her against him, laying on his side, so they were facing each other. He pushed his knee between her thighs so their pelvises dovetailed. He kissed Rukia again, moving his hands to her breasts and playing his thumbs across the nipples, feeling her rock against him, the fabric of their hakama sliding between them, growing hot from the friction.

“Do you like this? What does it do to you?” he murmured.

“It makes me want to forget I ever created that boundary,” Rukia growled.

“I know there are other things we can do about that. Will you show me what you like?”

He rolled Rukia on her back, hand straying to her stomach to the tie of her hakama.

“You first.” Rukia replied, seizing his wrist again.

“You are so pushy. Why do I always have to go first?” Ichigo complained, nervous about being completely naked with Rukia. What if she laughed at him? Maybe he wasn’t normal. “If you want this off me, do it yourself.”

Rukia sat up and Ichigo was briefly mesmerized by the flex and swell of her breasts as she changed position. Then she pressed on his shoulder until he was flat on his back. Well, most of him, anyway. He resisted the urge to cover the way his hakama jutted out in front. Rukia gave him a satisfied smirk and he scowled at her.

“I like the effect I have on you.”

“I wish I knew what effect I had on you,” Ichigo muttered grouchily.

“You will,” she said almost absently, untying the sash and pulling his hakama down. She gently eased off the fundoshi, which Ichigo gladly lifted his hips for. He kicked the fabric off the end of the bed and there he was. Naked. With Rukia looking down at him. He spread his hands out and dug his fingers into the futon to keep from covering himself.

He looked down at Rukia, who seemed to be scrutinizing him very intently. 

“Well?” Ichigo said. “See anything you like?”

“So many things,” Rukia replied, giving him a slow, proprietary grin. Ichigo’s fingers unclenched from the futon. Rukia reached out and placed her hand flat on the plane below his navel, under his cock. Ichigo’s hips bucked, and he groaned. 

“Huh, oh, Rukia,” he grunted.

She drew a finger up Ichigo’s cock, sliding the foreskin slightly until she reached the tip, which was wet and slick. “You’re leaking.”

“That happens when I’m really aroused,” Ichigo said.

“Oh. Are you really aroused?”

“You know damn well I am, Rukia,” Ichigo snapped. She smiled at his grumpiness.

“Rukia, I can’t just lay here naked,” Ichigo said desperately. “Please do something. Or let me do something.” 

“What would...you like me to do?”

“Would you be comfortable with putting your hands on me?”

“Show me what you want.”

“I thought you’d done this before,” Ichigo teased.

“I’m sure you really do not need me to draw comparisons to your reactions and --”

“And Renji’s?”

Rukia snatched her hands off Ichigo as if she’d been burned. Her face flamed red and she turned her head to the side, expression hidden in shadow.

“It was a very long time ago, when were barely more than children ourselves. It was a cold winter.”

“Rukia,” Ichigo sat up, putting his arms around her. “I’m sorry, I was just teasing. It doesn’t matter, it’s the past. Nothing’s changed between me and you because of it. Or me and Renji.”

“That wasn’t a funny joke,” Rukia said into Ichigo’s collarbone.

“I know, I’m sorry. Did I spoil the mood?”

“Maybe.”

“Can I make it up to you?”

“...Maybe.”

Ichigo traced Rukia’s spine with his fingertips and she shivered against him. He lay her down on her back, leaned over and kissed her under the point of her chin. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. He moved down to her breastbone and kissed her there. “I’m sorry.” To her belly and her navel, where he kissed her lightly, “I’m sorry.” Rukia’s back arched, hips undulating upward. Ichigo untied her hakama sash and pulled it down and off her. She wore no underwear whatsoever. There was a cluster of crisp dark curls at the top of her pubic area, and Ichigo was transfixed. He hadn’t realized how much Rukia’s shihakusho had been hiding, she was actually quite curvy, with small round breasts, a nipped-in waist, flat, muscular stomach, flaring hips, and a surprisingly full bottom. 

“Oh, wow, Rukia,” he breathed. “You are amazing.” He put his hands around her hips, thumbs in the grooves, and moved his mouth down further until his lips were brushing those dark curls. There was a scent rising from her that Ichigo found indescribably alluring. He wondered if she tasted the same way.

Without thinking, Ichigo shouldered Rukia’s thighs apart and moved his mouth further down, tongue dipping into the cleft, tasting a dark saltiness and feeling dampness along with a complex layering of skin. Rukia’s fist in his hair pulled him up from his explorations.

“Ow! Why’d you make me stop?”

“You’re forgiven. Now let me get back to what I was doing.”

“But --”

Rukia put a small foot on Ichigo’s shoulder and pushed him over onto his back. “You were going to show me what you liked.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re bossy?” Ichigo griped, up on his elbows to glare at Rukia.

“No, am I being bossy?” Rukia said disingenuously. Ichigo blew out an exasperated breath and flopped down on his back. Rukia moved over and sat on Ichigo’s thighs and he was acutely aware of her naked ass and...other parts...on his legs. She held up her hands, palms out, so that Ichigo could show her what to do. He dipped his fingers in one of the mugs, dripped water onto her palms, and placed them around his cock, grunting a little. It felt good and it felt strange. He’d never been touched by anyone besides himself.

“Squeeze a little harder...careful with the foreskin,” he said. He put his hands over Rukia’s and showed her how hard to grip, how to move her hands up and down, when to use more water for lubrication. Cupping his hands around hers on his cock was indescribably intimate. He dropped his head back, eyes closed, breath hitching.

“Rukia, that’s so good, that feels so good,” he murmured, hips moving with her hands.

“You like this?”

Ichigo lifted his head to look at her. “Oh my god, yes. So much. Are you okay with it?” 

“I like how you are enjoying it. I like being able to touch you the way that I’ve wanted to for so long. You are so seductive in your pleasure.”

“You’ve wanted to touch me?” Ichigo’s breath came faster. “Can you tell me about it?”

“Since I knew how you felt about me, I have wondered what it would be like to be with you in this way. How you would react, what makes you feel good.”

“That long? Even when you were shutting me out?”

“ _Especially_ then.”

Rukia moved her small hands faster on Ichigo and he squirmed.

“Rukia, you better stop,” Ichigo panted. “Unless you want me to...”

“I want you to.”

“You can be rougher. Tighter, faster,” Ichigo directed, feeling sweat roll off him and heat coiling down his spine, through his balls and, “Ah, Rukia, Rukia!” 

He cried out louder than he ever had doing it on his own, sounds stuttering out of him, hips pumping his cock through Rukia’s hands and hot fluid spattering on his stomach and chest. Rukia leaned back a little to get out of range and held his cock loosely as he slowed and shivered through the aftershocks. When he became still, she let go of him and slid off his legs to lay beside him, her head on his shoulder. Ichigo reached a hand up to her face and pulled her in for a long, gasping, kiss, his fingers tangled up in her hair.

“I have _got_ to work on my stamina,” Ichigo said, when they finished. “I’m all sticky.”

“An unfortunate side effect, I’m afraid.”

“Totally worth it.”

“I think so too.”

Ichigo sat up and looked around. “Stay there, I’m going to clean off.” He walked to the sink and wiped down with a damp washcloth and walked back, blowing some of the candles out as he went. He was a little self-conscious at Rukia’s frank admiration of his nudity.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I’m not allowed to find you beautiful as well?”

“I’m a guy. Guys don’t really get called beautiful. Plus, I’m covered with scars. How is that beautiful?”

“I am also covered in scars and you find me beautiful. Those scars are admirable and mark you as a warrior, someone of heart. You’ve fought many battles and survived.”

“So have you.”

“And so we find each other beautiful,” Rukia finished.

“Will you let me try something?” Ichigo sat back down on the futon next to her.

“Yes.” Rukia said immediately. Her lack of hesitation was inordinately gratifying to Ichigo.

Ichigo put his back against the wall and pulled Rukia onto his lap, his quiescent cock between them. He rested her against his chest, and opened his legs, which opened Rukia’s, laying on top of his thighs. He kissed Rukia’s shoulder.

“I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing, so I’m going to need a lot of instruction.” Ichigo said.

“You know I don’t mind giving you orders.”

Ichigo huffed a laugh. “True enough.” He moved his hands to Rukia’s breasts again, cupping them, stroking the nipples to hardness. 

“I really love your breasts,” he murmured in her ear as she leaned her head back onto his shoulder, breathing harder. He was fascinated by how Rukia’s hips moved as he touched her, her breath hot in his ear. “Is this good, Rukia? Do you like it?”

“Yes,” Rukia whispered. “You can do that for as long as you want.”

“Sorry, but there are other things I plan on doing.” Ichigo moved his hands further down, palms stroking Rukia’s flat stomach, until his fingertips reached that tantalizing cluster of curls.

Ichigo’s father was a doctor, so he knew anatomy just fine. But the specifics of Rukia’s physiognomy were still an utter mystery. He slid his middle fingers down until they passed between the inner and outer labia, feeling the heat and dampness and smoothness in there.

“You feel like the petals of a flower,” he said in awe.

“It’s a very sensitive flower, so be gentle.”

“What should I do?”

With her eyes closed, Rukia put her hands on top of Ichigo’s, and moved them. She slid a couple of his fingers inside her, gasping slightly, and Ichigo was not prepared for how wet and hot she was. Then she slid them out and smeared the moisture over and around the top of what Ichigo clinically knew was her clitoris, but what felt like a tiny button of flesh under another petal of skin.

“It’s better if I am very wet,” Rukia whispered, and Ichigo had possibly never heard anyone say anything more seductive in his life. “And then do this,” she put Ichigo’s middle and ring fingers atop her clitoris, pressing and circling his fingers for him, shuddering deeply.

Ichigo did as Rukia showed him, one arm wrapped around her waist, holding her against him while his other hand explored the mysteries of Rukia’s pleasure. Maybe someday he’d be better at this and could stroke her breasts at the same time, but right now he wasn’t capable of multitasking. 

He knew it was good because she breathed hotly in his ear and arched her back, chasing after Ichigo’s fingers with her hips. Every so often she would push his fingers back inside her to get more lubrication, until he figured out when to do it himself. 

“Oh, yes, yes, like that,” Rukia gasped, hips plunging. “Faster, harder!” And Ichigo went faster, pressed harder, and his wrist was getting tired. How long did it take? He wanted to see her lose control in a way he never had, so he kept going.

“Come on, Rukia,” he whispered in her ear. “You know you can let go with me. I love how you look right now, what you sound like. What you _feel_ like.”

“Oh! Ichigo!” Rukia shook her head back and forth on his shoulder, smacking his jaw with her head once, until he moved it out of the way. Her movements became frenzied and arrhythmic and Ichigo did his best to keep up, until Rukia arched her back, one hand fisting the bedclothes next to Ichigo’s thigh, the other grabbing his wrist. She held his hand still as she moved frantically against his fingers, crying out, “Oh gods, Ichigo, right there -- ah!” and moaned brokenly as she thrashed against him. She held his hand against her as her hips rocked to a stop.

Ichigo turned his head and kissed Rukia’s forehead, cheeks, nose, wherever he could reach, saying, “Amazing. Magnificent.”

Rukia turned around on Ichigo’s lap and hid her face in the curve of his neck. She was pulled up close against Ichigo’s suddenly-noticed hard-again cock, and he tried to ignore it as he held her against him. Rukia’s breathing normalized and she still didn’t change position.

“Rukia. You okay?”

Rukia nodded. Ichigo stroked her back. “What do you want me to do?”

“What you’re doing is perfect.” She kissed the side of Ichigo’s throat lightly. “But could we lay down?”

Ichigo held her against his chest and slid over sideways until they were supine. Rukia lay her head on his shoulder, arm across his chest, and he held her close to him. He breathed in her scent, dense in the hot, still air, with notes of something sharper, probably his own come.

“If we keep laying like this, I’ll fall asleep,” Rukia warned, voice low and drowsy.

“Oh, I’m not done,” Ichigo said. “There’s something else I want to do.”

“Only one?”

“Huh?”

“You said ‘something’. That implies that there’s only one thing more you wanted to do.”

“I swear to god, Midget, you would stop fighting in the middle of a melee to give me shit about my form.”

“I wouldn’t need to stop. I could do both at the same time.”

“You can and, now that I remember, have,” Ichigo grinned at Rukia’s indignant, “Hmph!”

“You need to let me finish what I was doing before,” Ichigo continued.

“What was that?” Rukia didn’t sound drowsy anymore.

“When I was apologizing.”

“Oh,” Rukia said in realization. “You don’t have to.”

“But I want to,” Ichigo replied, hands traveling down Rukia’s back to her ass, fingertips just brushing the wet cleft between her thighs. She shivered against him. “Will you let me taste you again?”

“Are you sure?” Rukia sounded disbelieving. “You really want to?”

“Yes, Rukia. I really, really do.”

Ichigo rolled Rukia onto her back, propped up on his hands above her. She stared up at him with some trepidation.

“What’s that look for? Did somebody make you feel bad about this?” Ichigo couldn’t imagine Renji doing anything that would make Rukia feel awkward about her body.

Rukia averted her eyes. “No, not directly. I just hear talk. Other Shinigami, other men. They sometimes forget I can hear them. They make it sound like such a chore. I don’t want you to do anything that feels like that.”

“Would it feel good? For you? Would you like it?”

Rukia’s cheeks turned pink, and she still wouldn’t look at Ichigo directly. “Yes,” she said softly.

“Rukia, look at me,” Ichigo demanded. She met his gaze with an uncharacteristic timidity. “I am not other men. I am not other Shinigami. I can’t think of anything that would be less of a chore than making you feel good. I don’t find any part of it distasteful. All you need to do is tell me what you don’t like, and I’ll do everything else.”

Ichigo knew he sounded pretty self-assured for someone who was working on making his virginity the merest technicality. He wanted to find those guys that Rukia had overheard and punch them all in the face. 

“You look like you want to hit something,” Rukia observed.

“Yeah, whoever it was you overheard. They made you feel bad and they’re spoiling my fun.”

“Heaven forbid someone do that.”

Ichigo smiled and shook his head. “Do you have to make everything so difficult?”

“I didn’t realize I was,” Rukia said. “I was just being myself.”

“Well, since that’s who I fell in love with, I guess I’ll just have to deal,” Ichigo said. “I only hope that someday you’ll find it unnecessary to test me so much.”

Rukia opened her mouth and Ichigo stopped whatever she planned to say by kissing her. He then trailed the tip of his tongue down the side of her neck, making loops and curlicues and tasting her sweat. Rukia moved her hands as if to touch Ichigo, but he pinned her wrists to the bed.

“Let me do this,” Ichigo said into Rukia’s skin. “Don’t make me have to stop.”

“Ichigo, please,” Rukia said in a strange, small voice, “Please don’t hold me down.”

Ichigo let Rukia go immediately. “I’m so sorry,” he said, taking in Rukia’s wide-eyed, panicked expression. “God, I’m sorry, Rukia.” He gathered her into his arms, holding her close.

_I even asked Renji, and I still screwed up. So many pitfalls._

Rukia stroked Ichigo’s back. “Ichigo, it’s all right. Just...don’t do it again.”

“Do you want us to stop?”

“No, I just don’t want you to hold me down.”

“You sure?”

“After arguing with me about doing this, now you are being hesitant?” Rukia gave Ichigo an exasperated look. “Just don’t pin me to the bed, that’s all.”

Ichigo closed his eyes and mentally shook himself, resetting his attitude. When he opened them again he released Rukia and trailed his fingertips from her collarbone to her hips, feeling her skin react to his touch, goosebumps rising and stomach quivering. Her skin shimmered in the candlelight. He watched, enthralled, as her hips rose to meet his hands, and he cupped them, thumbs in the hollow indentations next to her hipbones.

“Make sure you tell me if you want me to stop,” Ichigo said.

“I’m not going to want you to stop,” Rukia breathed. 

Ichigo pulled Rukia’s legs up and held her thighs as he leaned down until his mouth and the tip of his nose touched her stomach. He breathed on her skin as he lay down between her legs. His shoulders, so much broader than her hips, spread her wide, and his lips touched the hair atop her pubic mound.

“Rukia,” Ichigo said, inhaling her scent.

“What now?”

“Don’t yank on my hair this time, okay? Use words.”

“What if you render me inarticulate?”

“Rukia, just shut the hell up.”

“Now you’re being confusing. You can’t have it both wa--” Rukia gasped as Ichigo’s tongue slid through her hair to stroke over her clitoris. Her heels dug into his back as she arched upward.

Ichigo made a note of this to himself as a potential future argument-ender.

The salty, strong taste of Rukia intensified as Ichigo moved downward. His head swam with it as he swept his tongue in and around her labia. The tip of his tongue circled her clitoris, then slid even further down to her entrance.

“Hey, Rukia?”

“Hm?”

“Does putting my tongue inside you count as intercourse?”

Rukia slapped him across the back of the head.

“Ow! That was a legitimate question, dammit!”

“No, it doesn’t. Neither does using your fingers. If you stop again, I really will hurt you.”

 _Okay, fine._ Ichigo thought, petulantly.

Instead of exploring her further with his tongue, he slid a finger inside her. Rukia raised herself up off the bed, gasping in surprise. Ichigo was fascinated by the heat and saturation, and the variety of textures inside her.

“Oh, Ichigo,” Rukia moaned -- surely she wasn’t pleading? “More. Please, more.”

Ichigo tried to figure out what more Rukia wanted, and slid another finger inside her -- index and middle, now -- and she cried out, shoving herself down onto them. She rocked her hips and she clenched around Ichigo’s fingers -- _there are muscles in there?_ \-- as he wondered what else he needed to do.

“Up higher, Ichigo,” Rukia whispered. Ichigo moved his mouth up until he was licking the hood that covered her clitoris. It was a hard little knot under the delicate covering, and he traced the contours of it, feeling Rukia’s inner muscles ripple around his fingers. Her breathing verged on whining gasps.

“S-s-stop teasing, Ichigo,” Rukia panted.

Ichigo risked taking his mouth off her to say, “I’m not teasing you, I don’t know what to do.”

“What you were just doing with your tongue,” she said. “Harder. And faster.”

Ichigo reapplied himself, this time using firm darting strokes and wide flat sweeps across the slick little bundle, and Rukia’s back arched right off the bed, heels digging into Ichigo’s back and thighs closing around his head.

“Yes, Ichigo, yes, yes, there! There!”

Ichigo did as he was told, even though it was difficult with the way Rukia was moving around and the way her thighs were crushing his skull. But he was so entranced by the combination of sounds and smells and feel of her rocking onto his fingers that he wished he could make her feel like this forever.

Or maybe not. Rukia’s hips moved frantically and jerkily. She sounded surprised as she called out Ichigo’s name interspersed with “oh” at rising volume. She froze for a second and Ichigo thought he had done something very wrong, but then her scent and taste intensified and her inner muscles clamped around Ichigo’s fingers as her entire body spasmed. Ichigo felt his fingers get drenched and kept his mouth where it was the best he could as Rukia cried out inarticulately, voice muffled in the arm she had thrown over her face. Her hips pistoned her sex against Ichigo’s tongue and lips. She sounded like she was in agony, and it was so different from before, when she had been on Ichigo’s lap. This orgasm was more intense, more comprehensive. Rukia was completely inside the pleasure Ichigo had helped her achieve.

Ichigo decided that giving Rukia this kind of experience could be very addictive. It was the only time he’d ever known her to be truly unself-conscious.

Rukia’s movements finally slowed, her cries tapering off until she said weakly, “Ichigo, that’s enough. Please stop.”

Ichigo placed a final soft kiss on the thin flesh covering Rukia’s clitoris, then rose up, gently removing his fingers from her. He wiped the back of his hand across his smeared and wet chin. Rukia’s flavor remained in his mouth, her scent on his fingers. He crawled up the bed and lay next to Rukia, who was flat on her back, catching her breath.

Ichigo gathered Rukia to him. She was uncharacteristically pliant in his arms as he curled around her. He sometimes forgot how small she was, but he could completely surround her with his body when she was the little spoon.

“Rukia,” he said. “Rukia, are you okay?”

She turned in his arms and held his face in his hands. Such small, strong hands, with smooth calluses from holding her zanpakuto. Rukia pulled Ichigo to her so that their foreheads touched. He felt her breath across his lips.

“I...am fine,” she said clearly, between breaths. “Better than fine.”

Ichigo put his hands over Rukia’s and kissed her tenderly.

“I really love you,” he said. Rukia kissed him again.

“What an interesting taste you have,” she said, a smile in her voice as she snuggled into his chest.

“What an interesting taste _you_ have,” he replied.

“Did you like it?”

“Yes. I could make you feel good like that forever. It _was_ good, wasn’t it?”

“It was good,” Rukia murmured. “Can we sleep now?”

Ichigo sat up and blew out the candles next to the bed. Then he reached down to the bottom of the futon and pulled the comforter up over them.

“We can sleep.”

“Goodnight,” Rukia whispered. “I love you, too.”

“‘Night, Rukia,” Ichigo replied, surprised, but not so surprised that he didn’t drop off to sleep quickly, with the taste of Rukia still in his mouth, and the feel of her, relaxed and trusting, in his arms.

**

A fly had gotten into the room and was crawling on his back in the most irritating way. Ichigo flailed his hand at it and it stopped briefly. Just as he was falling back to sleep, it started up again. He grunted in annoyance and waved his hand behind him again. A painful flick to the back of his head woke him up fully and he realized he was not alone. He started to roll over.

“Don’t you dare,” Rukia said, and Ichigo stopped immediately.

“What are you doing?"

“Your scars make characters. They say, ‘Property of Kuchiki Fukutaichou. If found, please return to squad 13’s headquarters’.”

Ichigo laughed. “Is there a reward?”

“There aren’t enough scars to tell me. Maybe you should get some more and we’ll see how much you’re worth.”

“I think I might hold off on that. Getting them wasn’t all that much fun. Can I roll over now?”

“If you must.”

Ichigo rolled onto his back and looked at Rukia, propped up, head on her hand. He snorted, and she looked irritated.

“What is that for?”

“Your hair...it looks just like mine now,” he grinned at her.

Rukia self-consciously smoothed her hands down her head, but it didn’t help a bit.

“I always wondered what people meant by bedhead. Now I know.”

“You should. You never have anything but.”

Ichigo gaped in mock outrage, and Rukia laughed at him. He pulled her down on top of him and kissed her. He wrapped his arms around her and just loved the feel of her on his chest.

“I want mornings to always be like this,” Ichigo said. Rukia rubbed her cheek against Ichigo’s skin, saying, “Hmmm,” happily.

“How long until everyone comes back to their rooms?”

“Probably a week or so. Why?”

“So we have a week of sleeping together and waking up together,” Rukia replied, looking at Ichigo.

“Yeah. I guess we do.”

“And your birthday at the end of the week.”

“Oh, right, yeah! I forgot about that.”

Ichigo’s fingers traveled down Rukia’s spine until they reached her ass, and stopped there, resting lightly. She arched her back slightly and Ichigo’s cock, already hard due to it being morning, jumped a little. Ichigo moved his hands down more, pulling Rukia’s thighs apart. Then he cupped her face and kissed her, moving his hips up and sliding his cock against her. She was already wet.

Rukia gasped into his mouth.

“How long,” Ichigo murmured, “until you need to leave?”

“Soon,” Rukia replied breathlessly, moving against him. “How quickly can you work?”

“I’m going to let you do all of it,” Ichigo said, fingers gripping her hips. If he couldn’t be inside her, this was certainly a more than acceptable alternative. “How fast can you get there?”

This time Ichigo could see Rukia and the play of expressions on her face as she sought her pleasure from what they were doing. Her hands rested on Ichigo’s shoulders, her breath hot on his face. Her eyes were closed and her brow furrowed. Ichigo was lost in the complex interplay of the way their skin met, his foreskin and cock slippery with both his and Rukia’s fluids. Her movements were long and smooth with a hitch at the top, where her clitoris met the tip of his cock, and then back down, movements that sped up until it was just her thrusting that one part of her against him.

“Rukia, you look amazing, don’t stop,” Ichigo dug his fingers into her skin, rising to meet her.

Rukia arched her back, pressing down harder on Ichigo, moving faster. Her face flushed, and sweat glistened on her chest. Her mouth dropped open, breath coming more harshly. Her eyes snapped open and she stared down at Ichigo in utter amazement. “Ichigo, Ichigo, I’m --”

“Yes, please, yes, Rukia, come on,” he said, avid, and she did that thing again where she stopped briefly at the top of her swing and she closed her eyes again and cried out, moving even faster.

“Ichigo, come with me,” she panted, and Ichigo didn’t need to be told twice, he was nearly there anyway with the friction and how incredible Rukia looked. He curled up, holding Rukia to his chest, head dropping onto her shoulder. He bucked and shouted, voice joining Rukia’s for a moment. His cock was between them, long streams come getting on them both.

He finished before Rukia did, so he was able to watch her again. Her forehead was on his chest and she still moved against his softening cock, little cries coming out of her, her arms around his neck and fingers tangled up into his hair. She raised her face to Ichigo’s, still trembling, and kissed him desperately until she collapsed against him, panting.

Ichigo kissed her chin, her jaw, the side of her neck, and her shoulder over and over until she started laughing.

“What are you laughing at?” 

“I don’t know,” she said. “You kiss me like that every time I finish...when I finish. It’s like you are thanking me.”

“I am thanking you. For being with me, for letting me see you, for all of it. Right now I feel like I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

“Oh,” Rukia seemed lost for words. Then, “Oh! I need to go!” She pulled herself out of Ichigo’s arms and stood. She gave herself a quick wash at the sink, wetting her hands and combing her hair with her fingers. Ichigo leaned up on his elbow watching her, smiling slightly. Rukia pulled on her shihakusho, then her footwear at the door, sliding Sode no Shirayuki into her sash. She turned to face Ichigo, straightening her kosode.

“Do I look all right?”

“I’m the wrong person to ask,” Ichigo replied. “I always think you look all right.” Rukia snorted, walking back to the futon. She dropped to her knees and cupped Ichigo’s chin in her hands. Leaning forward, she kissed him softly on the lips.

“Thank you for last night,” she said, sliding her nose around Ichigo’s. He leaned into the kiss, eyes closed, raising his hand to draw her closer. Rukia backed off abruptly and stood. “I’ll see you later.” She smiled down at him as he glowered up at her, eyes a little unfocused.

“Wait!” Ichigo called out as she slid the door open. “Are you coming back tonight?”

“Every night until your neighbors come back.”

Ichigo flopped back onto the bed, relieved. “Okay. That’s good.”

He heard the door slide shut and rolled onto his side, burying his face in the comforter where Rukia had been. Something caught his eye. It was the flower that had been in her hair, smashed completely flat. He picked it up, smiling, and put it on the pillow next to his head as he drifted off to sleep.

***

Ichigo discovered that he and Rukia were extremely sexually compatible, and that was a relief. In a way, they were equally as inexperienced, but he hadn’t expected Rukia to be so trusting or willing or open with him. And she was a lot more assertive than he was.

One night, Rukia had stayed at a meeting so late that Ichigo had fallen asleep waiting for her. When she slid into bed next to him, he woke up enough to pull her into his arms and kiss her drowsily. She had whispered that he had to roll onto his side and make his back accessible to her. Then she had investigated the entirety of his backside, from neck to knee, with mouth and teeth and hands. Ichigo had clutched the sheets in his fists, back arching, grunting in surprise at the sensations. Her explorations woke Ichigo all the way up and he was especially shocked at Rukia’s attention to his ass. When she had slid curious, slim fingers into his crack and tickled around his anus, he had called a halt to her intrepidness.

“Exit only, Rukia,” he gasped, and she stopped, kissing the base of his spine. She had reached around and used one of her hands to bring him to a speedy and intense climax. When he had finally stopped shuddering, he had rolled over, noticing how hot his back felt on the sheet from Rukia biting and scratching him.

“You’re kind of aggressive for this time of night.” Ichigo had said, catching his breath.

“Yes, I am so very shy and retiring the rest of the time,” Rukia remarked, putting her head on Ichigo’s shoulder. Ichigo snorted.

“I was going to say modest and reserved. Do you actually sleep naked all the time or just because you’re with me?”

“Not telling,” Rukia yawned.

Ichigo liked this Rukia. He wished could have access to her all the time. But during the day, she was all business, even with him. It made Ichigo dizzy sometimes, the way Rukia could compartmentalize her life. Ichigo didn’t have that ability. He was more or less the same person all the time, with slight adjustments for the personality of the person he was interacting with.

Ichigo spent the week in an underslept, oversexed haze, his mind on the explorations of the night before -- and the night before that. And anticipating the upcoming night. 

The pupils in the classes he student-taught thought it was great, they could spar with him and have a hope of landing a touch.

One of those days Renji tripped Ichigo and sent him sprawling in the dirt. When he sat up, angrily brushing dust off himself, Renji had unapologetically told him to get a grip and stop being an embarrassment to Shinigami and the male race in general.

“You’re just jealous,” Ichigo had said, and then ran away laughing as Renji lunged after him, and then chased and tackled him. The resulting match ended when Rukia discovered them and scolded them to an abashed halt. Ichigo dabbed his split lip with his sleeve, and Renji sported a black eye.

“Children, the both of you!” Rukia had concluded, throwing her hands up and stalking away. Renji and Ichigo glanced at each other, trading smirks.

But Rukia was merciless that night, biting Ichigo’s lip back open and sucking on it, tongue tracing the tender skin of it and handling the rest of him roughly, as if it might teach him a lesson. What surprised Ichigo was that he kind of liked it. He liked it a _lot_. 

It made Ichigo feel more certain of their relationship when Rukia took every liberty possible, and he liked giving himself to her. In turn, Rukia let Ichigo fumble his own way through discovering the ways to please her without teasing or criticizing him. She told him what she wanted and liked and was open with him in ways she never let herself be in daily life. And even though Ichigo’s love and attraction to Rukia was serious, he learned that there was a lot about sexual discovery that was silly and fun. 

Ichigo didn’t know what would happen with them after the week was over and they would have to sleep separately again and snatch time together when they could. He resolved not to think about it until it was absolutely necessary.

The end of the week, and his birthday, came much too quickly.

**Author's Note:**

> Woman is the lesser man, and all thy passions,  
> match'd with mine,  
> Are as moonlight unto sunlight, and as water unto wine. -- Alfred, Lord Tennyson, _Locksley Hall_.
> 
> (please try to ignore the embedded sexism in the poem [Rukia is not a lesser anything] and take it in the spirit in which it was intended.)


End file.
